“You don’t know the wicked things I do,” she say.
“If a man attack you, child, don’t you must defend yourself? I know this, though: I ain’t smell no rottenness on you, and that is my favourite smell. If you dead soon, I go thank you for your thoughtfulness with each taste of your entrails, but I go thank you even more if you stay alive long enough to deliver Dry Bone to me.”
“How you mean, Master Crow?”
“Dry Bone did dead and rotten long before Nanny was a girl, but him living still. Him is the sweetest meat for a man like me. I could feed off Dry Bone for the rest of my natural days, and him still wouldn’t done. Is years now I trying to catch he for me larder. Why you think he so ’fraid the open sky? Open sky is home to me. Do me this one favour, nuh?”
Tan-Tan feel hope start to bud in she heart.
“What you want me to do, Master Crow?”
“Just get he to come outside in your yard, and I go do the rest.”
So the two of them make a plan. And before he fly off Master Johncrow say to she, “Like Dry Bone not the only monkey that a-ride your back, child. You carrying round a bigger burden than he. And me nah want that one there. It ain’t smell dead, but like it did never live. Best you go find Papa Bois.”
“And who is Papa Bois, sir?”
“The old man of the bush, the one who does look after all the beast-them. He could look into your eyes, and see your soul, and tell you how to cleanse it.”
Tan-Tan ain’t like the sound of someone examining she soul, so she only say politely, “Thank you, Master Johncrow. Maybe I go do that.”
“All right then, child. Till later.” And Master Buzzard fly off to wait until he part of the plan commence.
Tan-Tan scoop up the water for the soup to carry back to she hut, feeling almost happy for the first time in weeks. On the way home, she fill up she carry sack with a big, nice halwa fruit, three handful of mushroom, some coco yam that she dig up, big so like she head, and all the ripe hog plum she could find on the ground. She go make Dry Bone eat till he foolish, oui?
When she reach back at the hut, she set about she cooking with a will. She boil up the soup thick and nice with mushroom and coco yam and cornmeal dumpling. She roast the halwa fruit in the coal pot, and she sprinkle nutmeg and brown sugar on top of it too besides, till the whole hut smell sweet with it scent. She wash the hog plum clean and put them in she best bowl. And all the time she work, she humming to sheself:
Corbeau say so, it must be so,
Corbeau say so, it must be so.
Dry Bone sprawl off on she bed and just a-watch she with him tiny jumbie-bead eye, red with a black centre. “How you happy so?”
Tan-Tan catch sheself. She mustn’t make Dry Bone hear Master Johncrow name. She make she mouth droop and she eyes sad, and she say, “Me not really happy, Dry Bone. Me only find when me sing, the work go a little faster.”
Dry Bone still suspicious, though. “Then is what that you singing? Sing it louder so I could hear.”
“Is a song about making soup.” Tan-Tan sing for he:
Coco boil so, is so it go,
Coco boil so, is so it go.
“Cho! Stupid woman. Just cook the food fast, you hear?”
“Yes, Dry Bone.” She leave off singing. Fear form a lump of ice in she chest. Suppose Dry Bone find she out?
Tan-Tan finish preparing the meal as fast as she could. She take it to Dry Bone right there on the bed.
By now, Dry Bone skin did draw thin like paper on he face. He eyes did disappear so far back into he head that Tan-Tan could scarce see them. She ain’t know what holding he arms and legs-them together, for it look as though all the flesh on them waste away. Only he belly still bulging big with all the food she been cooking for he. If Tan-Tan had buck up a thing like Dry Bone in the bush, she would have take it for a corpse, dead and rotting in the sun. Dry Bone, the skin-and-bone man. To pick he up was to pick up trouble, for true.
Dry Bone bare he teeth at Tan-Tan in a skull grin. “Like you cook plenty this time, almost enough for a snack. Give me the soup first.” He take the whole pot in he two hand, put it to he head, and drink it down hot-hot just so. He never even self stop to chew the coco yam and dumpling; he just swallow. When he put down the pot and belch, Tan-Tan see steam coming out of he mouth, the soup did so hot. He scoop out all the insides of the halwa fruit with he bare hand, and he chew up the hard seed-them like them was fig. Then he eat the thick rind. And so he belly getting bigger. He suck down the hog plum one by one, then he just let go Tan-Tan best bowl. She had was to catch it before it hit the ground and shatter.
Dry Bone lie back and sigh. “That was good. It cut me hunger little bit. In two-three hour, I go want more again.”
Time was, them words would have hit Tan-Tan like blow, but this time, she know what she have to do. “Dry Bone,” she say in a sweet voice, “you ain’t want to go out onto the verandah for a little sun while I cook your next meal?”
Dry Bone open he eyes up big-big. Tan-Tan could see she death in them cold eyes. “Woman, you crazy? Go outside? Like you want breeze blow me away, or what? I comfortable right here.” He close he eyes and settle back down in the bed.
She try a next thing. “I want to clean the house, Master. I need to make up the bed, put on clean sheets for you. Make me just cotch you on the verandah for two little minutes while I do that, nuh?”
“Don’t get me vex.” Tan-Tan feel he choking weight on she spirit squeeze harder. Only two-three sips of air making it past she throat.
The plan ain’t go work. Tan-Tan start to despair. Then she remember how she used to love to play masque Robber Queen when she was a girl-pickney, how she could roll pretty words around in she mouth like marble, and make up any kind of story. She had a talent for the Robber Queen patter. Nursie used to say she could make yellow think it was red. “But Dry Bone,” she wheeze, “look at how nice and strong I build my verandah, fit to sit a king. Look at how it shade off from the sun.” She gasp for a breath, just a little breath of air. “No glare to beware, no open sky to trouble you, only sweet breeze to dance over your face, to soothe you as you lie and daydream. Ain’t you would like me to carry you out there to lounge off in the wicker chair, and warm your bones little bit, just sit and contemplate your estate? It nice and warm outside today. You could hear the gully hens-them singing cocorico, and the guinea lizards-them just a-relax in the sun hot and drowse. It nice out there for true, like a day in heaven. Nothing to cause you danger. Nothing to cause you harm. I could carry you out there in my own two arm, and put you nice and comfortable in the wicker chair, with two pillow at your back for you to rest back on, a king on he own throne. Ain’t you would like that?”
Dry Bone smile. The tightness in she chest ease up little bit. “All right, Tan-Tan. You getting to know how to treat me good. Take me outside. But you have to watch out after me. No make no open sky catch me. Remember, when you pick me up, you pick up trouble! If you ain’t protect me, you go be sorry.”
“Yes, Dry Bone.” She pick he up. He heavy like a heart attack from all the food he done eat already. She carry he out onto the verandah and put he in the wicker chair with two pillow at he back.
Dry Bone lean he dead-looking self back in the chair with a peaceful smile on he face. “Yes, I like this. Maybe I go get you to bring me my food out here from now on.”
Tan-Tan give he some cool sorrel drink in a cup to tide he over till she finish cook, then she go back inside the hut to make the next meal. And as she cooking, she singing soft-soft,
Corbeau say so, it must be so,
Corbeau say so, it must be so.
And she only watching at the sky through the one little window in the hut. Suppose Master Johncrow ain’t come?
“Woman, the food ready yet?” Dry Bone call out.
“Nearly ready, Dry Bone.” Is a black shadow that she see in the sky? It moving? It flying their way? No. Just a leaf blowing in the wind. “The chicken done stew!” she called out to th
e verandah. “I making the dumpling now!” And she hum she tune, willing Master Johncrow to hear.
A-what that? Him come? No, only one baby raincloud scudding by. “Dumpling done! I frying the banana!”
“What a way you taking long today,” grumbled Dry Bone.
Yes! Coasting in quiet-quiet on wings the span of a big man, Master Johncrow the corbeau-bird float through the sky. From her window Tan-Tan see him land on the banister rail right beside Dry Bone, so soft that the duppy man ain’t even self hear he. She heart start dancing in she chest, light and airy like a masque band flag. Tan-Tan tiptoe out to the front door to watch the drama.
Dry Bone still have he eyes closed. Master Johncrow stretch he long, picky-picky wattle neck and look right into Dry Bone face, tender as a lover. He black tongue snake out to lick one side of he pointy beak, to clean out the corner of one eye. “Ah, Dry Bone,” he say, and he voice was the wind in dry season, “so long I been waiting for this day.”
Dry Bone open up he eye. Him two eyes make four with Master Johncrow own. He scream and try to scramble out the chair, but he belly get too heavy for he skin-and-bone limbs. “Don’t touch me!” he shout. “When you pick me up, you pick up trouble! Tan-Tan, come and chase this buzzard away!” But Tan-Tan ain’t move.
Striking like a serpent, Master Johncrow trap one of Dry Bone arm in he beak. Tan-Tan hear the arm snap like twig, and Dry Bone scream again. “You can’t pick me up! You picking up trouble!” But Master Johncrow haul Dry Bone out into the yard by he break arm, then he fasten onto the nape of Dry Bone neck with he claws. He leap into the air, dragging Dry Bone up with him. The skin-and-bone man fall into the sky in truth.
As Master Johncrow flap away over the trees with he prize, Tan-Tan hear he chuckle. “Ah, Dry Bone, you dead thing, you! Trouble sweet to me like the yolk that did sustain me. Is trouble you swallow to make that belly so fat? Ripe like a watermelon. I want you to try to give me plenty, plenty trouble. I want you to make it last a long time.”
Tan-Tan sit down in the wicker chair on the verandah and watch them flying away till she couldn’t hear Dry Bone screaming no more and Master Johncrow was only a black speck in the sky. She whisper to sheself:
Corbeau say so, it must be so,
Please, Johncrow, take Dry Bone and go,
Tan-Tan say so,
Tan-Tan beg so.
Tan-Tan went inside and look at she little home. It wouldn’t be plenty trouble to make another window to let in more light. Nothing would be trouble after living with the trouble of Dry Bone. She go make the window tomorrow, and the day after that, she go re-cane the break-seat chair.
Tan-Tan pick up she kerosene lamp and went outside to look in the bush for some scraper grass to polish the rust off it. That would give she something to do while she think about what Master Johncrow had tell she. Maybe she would even go find this Papa Bois, oui?
Wire bend,
Story end.
• • •
Tan-Tan’s first day in the daddy tree, her birthday, her first day as an adult, the douen family realised that something in her urine was poison to the food grubs. After she’d pissed in the pot all the grubs-them had floated up to the top of the effluvia and died, bloated and discoloured. Like them hadn’t been nasty-looking enough already. Benta contemplated the mess. Tan-Tan felt to die from shame.
*From now on,* Benta said, *I go take you down to the ground to do your business.*
“Nanny bless, Benta; ain’t that is plenty trouble?”
*Trouble yes; me and Chichibud know is trouble we would get for picking you up. Don’t pay it no mind.*
That night, Benta gave her a pallet stuffed with dead leaves to sleep on. It was comfortable, but sometime in the night Tan-Tan felt something in her hair. Half asleep, she put her hand up to brush it away. She woke up one time when she felt a tiny body wriggling out from between her fingers. Her screams brought the whole nest to see is what do her.
“Is only a house cousin, child,” Chichibud told her. “Them like to sleep warm against we bodies.”
House cousin. Flying lizard. Vermin. Tan-Tan asked Benta for a piece of cloth. She wrapped up her hair tight-tight, and that is the only way she got any more sleep that night. But the dreams, the dreams. Antonio beating her, flailing at her legs with the buckle end of the belt. She grabbing the belt to hit him back, only the belt had become a cutlass as she swung down with it. She slashed off his pissle with one stroke. He hadn’t been naked before. The bloody tube of meat dropped to the ground and turned into one of the maggots from the douen pisshole; a big one. “Eat it,” Antonio ordered her in a voice like the dead. “It good for you, you just like your mother.” She felt his hand on the back of her neck, pressing her head closer and closer to the writhing pissle on the ground.
She woke up sweating, to the sound of tree frogs singing out sunrise. She felt unreal. Is which world she living in; this daddy tree, or the nightmare daddy world?
Benta flew her down the forest floor. Tan-Tan’s belly still didn’t like the feeling of dropping down through the daddy tree branches. It was a relief when they slid smoothly into a corridor made by two of the giant buttress roots of the daddy tree, at the foot of one of its massive trunks. The root corridor was almost a storey high. Tan-Tan held up her lantern against the darkness, wishing for a flashlight from back home, Toussaint home. She slid off Benta’s back. Her alpagat sandals-them sunk ankle deep in leaf mould and dry twigs. The buttress roots took a long, low slope to the ground, gradual enough to run up them if she had felt to.
*Mind where you step.*
It was humid here on the ground, not like the leaf-rustling breeziness of up in the daddy tree. The heat weighed on Tan-Tan. It was dark. And damp. It was like breathing in warm water. Sweat was already running down between her breasts. Her thick hair was holding in the heat, twisting into locks in the dampness. Shy of Benta’s eyes, she took the long walk round to the other side of one of the buttress roots to do her business. No such thing as paper. And when her period came? Blood cloths from Benta, she supposed. She wiped herself with some dead leaves, wincing as they scraped her. Benta took her back up in the daddy tree.
That morning, Benta and Chichibud’s family foraged for their breakfast. Abitefa climbed onto Benta’s back and the two of them went winging off through the daddy tree to get grubs from a neighbour to replace the ones that Tan-Tan had poisoned. Chichibud gave Tan-Tan a carry pouch woven out of vine. He and Zake took her out into the daddy tree and showed her where to find tree frog nests to raid. Zake shyly tried out his Anglopatwa on her, pointing out edible shoots and the best hand and foot holds for climbing. When they found tree frog eggs, Chichibud and Zake just sucked out the raw contents from the shells right there, embryos and all. Tan-Tan felt queasy watching them.
“Oonuh have any way to cook in your home?” she asked. “I could take some of these eggs back and make a omelette.”
“We have a coal pot in the kitchen, doux-doux, but we don’t use it plenty. We can’t make flames catch the daddy tree. You could use it today, but you go have to learn to eat your food raw. It better for you so; you could taste the life in it.”
She preferred her food good and dead. Trying to keep her find of eggs safe in their pouch, she climbed clumsily down towards the level where Chichibud and Benta had their nest. Two-three douen pickney saw her struggling. They consulted with each other then leapt into the air to swoop past her on their wing flaps, laughing shu-shu and tapping her on the head as they rushed by. She yelled at them to stop. They didn’t listen. Twice she nearly lost her balance. When she finally reached to the nest level most of the eggs were broken. Their slime dripped through the carry sack down her leg. She was trembling with anger and effort. She went inside to climb the rope to the eating room. Three eggs survived that jaunt. She had to pick out yolky, budding masses from inside them before she could finally make herself something to eat. Tree frogs were small animals. The omelette she got from the three eggs would have just filled a table
spoon. There was no salt.
She chewed down the omelette determinedly—she’d burnt it, and Chichibud had made her put out the fire. She wasn’t going to go hungry all the time, oui? She couldn’t bring herself to eat living beasts or compost grubs that grew in douen people’s mess, but there must be a way to cook for herself. She spat out a sharp piece of tree frog shell.
The forest floor; she could go down there and forage and cook what she found, the way Chichibud had shown her and Antonio their first day on New Half-Way Tree. She was going to be going down into the bush regular anyway. Best make some use of the trip while she’d be down there.
Could she make the climb down by herself? She got her knife and carry pouch, found a lantern and a stoppered container into which she poured the lantern’s oil. There were matches—that new creation from the settlement of Bounding Makak—beside the lantern. Oil, matches and lantern went into the carry pouch, which she slung across her body.
Outside, she contemplated the daddy tree trunk nearest Chichibud and they’s nest. She’d climbed it today, a little bit. It had been hard work, but she would get used to it. She set her hands and feet in the first set of holds and started down. Douen people were only stopping what they were doing to stare at her. No-one greeted her, no-one spoke. She clambered down past a douen man climbing up the other way. They did an awkward dance of exchanging hand and foot holds. “Tallpeople,” he muttered as he edged round her. “Chichibud and Benta bring misfortune ’pon we heads when they bring you here.” He was far above her before she even thought to reply.
He right, said the Bad Tan-Tan voice. You is a trial, you is a wicked crosses for people to bear.
Why that hinte over there watching at her? Scrutinizing her business. Tan-Tan waved mock-cheerily at the douen woman and skinned her teeth in a pretend grin. The hinte flew away. Tan-Tan kept climbing. More douen people came out of their nests to ogle. Anger heat rose in Tan-Tan, took over her voice and tongue. She stopped where she was and shouted out to them:
Midnight Robber Page 21
